Spider's Share
by ashlanders
Summary: Ashe is a desperate, highly religious dropkick whose parents disowned him, living off his twin sister, unable to get a job. But when the talent scouts of a high-class strip club owner stumbles across this angelic beauty, they decide the owner, Claude, must have him. But will this dirty new life be the ultimate demise of Ashe? (Modern, OOC, yaoi, smut.)


**((I don't own kuroshitsuji. If I did, your eyes would've been sexually violated so many times that they'd need intense therapy. Onwards.))**

'Thanks again, Angela.'

Ashe liked visiting his sister. Not only did it mean a free meal and a shower, it meant good conversation with someone who didn't reek of alcohol and shame.

'You're welcome. But don't expect me to let you do this again. You need a job.'

She said that every time, "You can't keep coming back here to wash, etcetera." but that was a lie. She'd do anything for her brother, and he knew it. But he didn't exploit that, he came to visit her in her sharp-edged, modern and clean apartment once a week, no more unless it was an emergency, to shower, talk and eat. Like a homeless brother should.

But she was right about the job thing. Ashe couldn't get a job anywhere he applied. He had a master degree in the arts, but- he should've figured this out as a dumb scene boy in college- it gets you nowhere. Not even a supermarket would accept him, as he had no retail experience. This made him question where he'd get the retail experience from exactly, but he never questioned the decision his potential bosses made. And he had a rather unsightly past that no-one wanted to touch, not even himself.

'You know I'm trying, Angie, but I don't even think Craigslist would take me now. Picture the title: "Extremely religious choir boy, never used, virginity yours for $8!" Hopefully they'll look over the fact I'm a 25 year old choir boy, and that I'm a greasy hobo.'

'Ashe!' She slapped the white-haired male upside the head. 'You are not whoring yourself out on the internet! If your going to do that sort of thing, make gay porn. I heard that's got good pay. You can be the submissive. You haven't got a dominant look about you, pretty boy.'

They both giggled.

Those two were very close as children, always giggling and playing together. They had a sister, Victoria. Neither of them liked her very much. Unlike the almost identical brother and sister, who were twins, she was two years younger than them both, a sweet, pretty little girl with beautiful turquoise eyes and shimmering grey hair. Everyone loved cute little Vicky. Jealously brewed in the pair. They wanted to be as pretty and as loved as her. They both had short white hair, although Angela's locks were a bit longer and bluer, and deep, amethyst eyes, framed by thick white eyelashes. No one wanted to talk or play with them after Victoria was born. She got to play and break all their toys, spend time with Mummy, hug Daddy.

One day, Ashe was playing in the garden by himself, when he heard crying. He was about nine at the time. In investigation of the noise, he found Vicky beating Angela with a baseball bat. Angela was bloody, broken and bruised, you could hear snaps as each blow landed. He screamed for her to stop, but she wouldn't, so he lunged at her.

She wasn't allowed to do this to Angela. Angela was his best friend and his favorite sister. Victoria had to be punished. So he ripped out her eye.

They believed he did this to them.

He didn't even know himself.

He wasn't even there to begin with.

'Ashe, it's almost 1, I have to go,'

'Yep.' He replied, getting up, taking his pricey phone his sister gave him off the charger. A simple brick Nokia would've done fine, he didn't need any social networks or games or any of that bullshit, but she insisted. But this was the only place he could charge it. So, kinda useless.

'Do you want me to drive you?'

'Where would you drive me? I'll just walk.' He smiled reassuringly as he left, his smile quickly fading. Hell, here I come.

Ashe's stomach growled. He growled back. He was currently sitting in a homeless shelter out the front of several clubs and strip joints. This is where pimps recruited desperate women as their ho's.

It was quite chilly. Not as cold as England, but nevertheless it was cold. America was a rather harsh and unforgiving place, especially for the Australians waiting tables for bungee jumping money, the Russians trying to make a change from the harsh reality of their cold motherland, German backpackers didn't have it too bad, but the tanned asylum seekers from war-torn countries had it rough, and so did the poor British guy with unrealistic good looks, shivering in a homeless shelter full of drunk men and hookers. America. It's the land of opportunity, yeah, but sometimes, the opportunities aren't worth risking your ass to get here.

'Hey. You. Pretty boy.'

Ashe looked up. A group of drunk men, straight from the strip bar. Great.

'What?'

'You're looking awful gorgeous, y' know.'

Ashe rolled his eyes.

'Why don't you get prostitutes if you're so horny?'

The talking man grabbed his face. 'All these whores are ugly as fuck. You've got pretty hair and long eyelashes, and a sweet looking mouth. Though, cause of that, I betcha have the loosest asshole in New York, dontcha?'

Ashe slapped the man's hand away.

'Don't touch me, filth.' The much older man laughed. 'Me? Filth? Look at you, dirty, covered in piss and God knows what els-'

The man stopped as soon as the younger male grabbed his collar.

'Never use the Lord's name in vain again, disgusting man.'

The group began to laugh collectively, grabbing and pulling Ashe's clothes.

'Let's see your God help you now, virgin boy!'

'No! Stop!' This was rape in full view of the public, on city property! How was this in any way acceptable, and why was no one helping?

His chest got a sudden chill as his ivory skin was exposed, his dirty old shirt being shredded. 'Don't...!' He shivered, the old man toying with his nipples as the others held him back. He was finding this in no way pleasurable. 'Stop!' Ashe hissed, cursing and spitting, writhing about.

"God, God, please save me! Help me, Father!" He screamed inwardly, tears forming in his amethyst eyes.

'...!'

'What are you...?'

'Boss! We have to...!'

Ashe quickly sat up, scrambling to his feet as soon as he was released. The men who were harassing him were fleeing.

'...?'

Ashe was rendered rather speechless by the situation.

'Hey you.'

'You. Hey.'

'Yes, you. Hey.'

Ashe looked up shakily. Dark violet triplets, all dressed identically, in black vests, ties and trousers. And shirts of course. They looked like they belonged in a 1920's gangster film.

'You alright?'

'They're a rough bunch.'

'You could've caught something.'

They waited for a reply, but not getting one, they continued.

'I'm Timber. Call me Timmy.'

'I'm Thompson. Call me Tommy.'

'I'm Canterbury. Call me Helga.'

Ashe raised a skeptical eyebrow.

'He kids, sugar'. Call him Canterbury.'

The trio all lit their cigarettes at the same time, in exactly the same manner. As they stuck the cigarettes in their mouths, the one with longer bangs on his right asked:

'So what's a pretty boy like you doing in a hobo dump?'

Ashe stayed silent.

'Silent type.' The one whose hair grew to the left quipped.

'Would you like out of this dump, hon?' The even-fringed one asked.

The taller male hissed. 'I refuse to become a common whore.'

'Common? Hell no, sugar. You'll be a top-class escort.' The right one laughed.

Ashe grimaced, hating the fact he was actually considering the offer.

'He jokes, darl.' The left reassured.

'We're just lookin' for a gorgeous bartender. You interested?'

Ashe considered this. He did not like the sound of helping others to sin, but this was his only option. Even the churches had rejected his help. He didn't want to sound too needy, so he decided to look cool about it.

'How much does it pay?'

'Enough for you to get fed regularly, sweetheart.'

'Enough for you to shower whenever you please, sugar lips.'

'Enough for you to forget mutilating your sister, darling.'

Ashe's violet eyes snapped wide open, his pupils shrinking in fear and shock. The triplets smirked in unison.

'Ashe Landers, British kid, known for his intellect and good looks. Good family heritage, good scores in school, even a degree in the arts. Graduated Oxford with flying colors. And spent three years in the loony bin for brutally mutilating his little sister.'

The angelically handsome man stepped back. No one was meant to know about that.

'For the right amount, you can find out anything about anyone, honey.'

'So, now you know how much we know. You wouldn't want this to get around your homeless buddies, would ya?'

'Or dear Angie's workmates, eh?'

He couldn't believe this! Three 1920's wannabe douchebags were threatening him into a well-paying, seemingly comfortable job! He was outrag- Wait a moment. Why was he resisting...?

'I suppose I can take the job. Do I need an interview?'

'That's the problem, Ashey.'

'Boss insists, no matter how perfect for the job someone is...'

'...He must always make sure they're entertaining enough for him.'

'He's stupid. Hannah should own the place.'

'Phwoah, that broad can order me around anyday.'

The taller male considered some crucial factors while the triplets chatted away.

First. Go to an interview like this? He was scruffy. Clean, but scruffy. He hadn't had a haircut in ages, split ends adorned his snowy white, wavy, almost shoulder-length hair. At least he never had to deal with facial hair, although it made him feel more than a little feminine at times. His clothes were a mess, a large, cream-white canvas jacket, layered over a thin, grey sweatshirt, layered over a dark purple flannelette shirt, layered over a black t-shirt, as well as his black skinny jeans and workboots. No socks. Socks were extravagant.

Second, entertain?

Ashe was never a show-pony, he was more of an amazement. As a child, no one knew any other children as loyal to God as Ashe, and his twin Angela. But he knew where he'd be working would be a Godless place. His praying would be no use there.

'Hey!'

He looked up at the triplets, snapping out of it.

'Come with us, hon. Your job interview awaits.'


End file.
